


left my heart at the scrap metal yard

by orphan_account



Category: Formula 1 RPF, GP2 Series RPF
Genre: M/M, it's kind of just some sappy dick lit, they're very romantic you know, what even is this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-13
Updated: 2017-01-13
Packaged: 2018-09-17 06:29:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9309548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: It's not really supposed to happen, the first time. The guys were ripping the piss at a party and Alex had had three beers and he never drinks and he’s feeling a bit weird so he doesn’t think to get up when someone starts up a game of spin the bottle.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mizzmd](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mizzmd/gifts), [marieblanc](https://archiveofourown.org/users/marieblanc/gifts).



> Hello, this took me 23 years. I am sorry. But I wanted to write it for you both last year, so here it is.

It's not really supposed to happen, the first time. The guys were ripping the piss at a party and Alex had had three beers and he never drinks and he’s feeling a bit weird so he doesn’t think to get up when someone starts up a game of spin the bottle.

It doesn’t really occur to him that he’s in the circle or expected to be involved, because these are his friends and he doesn’t want to make out with any of them. Probably. Sometimes he thinks about Mitch at inopportune moments when he’s just about to come or something but he’s pretty sure everyone does that, like it’s just part of puberty.

He doesn’t think about Nick that way, or Carlos.  _ Definitely  _ not JEV or Dan - they’re kind of terrifying anyway. Maybe Brendon? Alex keeps thinking he’s a girl, with that hair, so you can hardly blame him. Pierre is almost as terrifying as JEV and Dan and Richie is… well, he’s just Mitch but without the tendency to intrude on Alex’s wank fantasies. And he has really small nipples.

Ant has really nice eyes, he thinks, idly toying with his beer and slumping back against where he’s propped on the sofa, between various legs. He’s sort of cute, like a rabbit or something. Maybe a mole? Do moles have nice eyes? Either way, Alex has definitely had worse experiences than watching him make out with Tom with an unexpected level of passion. 

He shuffles back into the sofa a bit, leaning on the leg next to him and drawing his own knees up to hide the semi he’s surprised he’s got. Except he’s not, really because he’s 20 and he spends about half his life thoroughly frustrated by everything and the rest of it weirdly enjoying the stress of racing and he hasn’t had much time for sex, lately. 

Who knows, maybe he’ll get Mitch? Kissing Mitch would be quite hot, he thinks. He’s so short, Alex could pull him up against him and grab that stupidly sculpted arse. Oh, shit, maybe he  _ does  _ kind of want to make out with his friends. 

He shifts about a few more times before Dan reaches across and thwacks him with his hat, tells him to ‘stop fucking wriggling’ and he realises it’s neither improving the erection situation nor doing very much to hide it. He hiccups slightly, blinks and tries to remember what number beer this is. 

Dan swipes at him again, “It’s your turn, Lynn - don’t pass out on us mate.”

“Oh yeah. Right.” Sexy, think sexy thoughts. Actually no - do  _ not  _ think sexy thoughts, think totally wholesome thoughts - like.. bread. No, not that either; fuck, he’s really pretty drunk and now he’s got to snog someone. Maybe it’d be better if it wasn’t Mitch, he’s not sure he’s going to do a very good job of it right now. 

Alex tries to lean forward enough to grab the bottle without falling over, sort of mostly manages it, even spins it slightly more than the room currently is. Which makes it all the more confusing when it points straight back at him. What’s he meant to do? Have… a wank?

“Ha! You got lucky, white Russian.” Mitch looks genuinely a bit sulky, which is an interesting thought for another time. But also Alex isn’t Russian and he didn’t get lucky so what the fuck.

He realises he must be looking totally confused when he feels a tentative hand on his shoulder and - oh  _ fuck,  _ he’s been sitting between Daniil’s legs. Daniil is Russian. Does this mean he has to make out with Daniil? He’d kind of forgotten he existed, to be honest - he’s pretty quiet and hardly ever comes out to party, apart from with Nick. Who’s here, so that kind of makes sense. 

Oof, turning round is complicated. Alex finds himself sort of half kneeling, with his hands on Dany’s knees - which is maybe a bit eager because the teenager looks kind of confused and borderline terrified at the way Alex is kind of pushing his legs apart to get to him. Ugh, shit - he’s being a creep. 

He’s literally never looked at Daniil in a kind of ‘might snog you’ way - he’s like… always with Carlos? Or Nick? Actually Alex vaguely thought him and Nick might have a thing because they sometimes seem to cuddle each other but maybe that’s just some kind of weird coping mechanism. 

“Are you ok?” Dany’s voice is  _ way  _ lower than Alex expects, every time. He feels  _ really  _ drunk now he’s kind of sat up and everything is very sliding-sideways-somewhat-out-of-his-control. He nods, mutely and jerkily leans forward slightly, feeling as though he’s sinking towards Daniil. 

Dany isn’t really his type - he likes brunettes, big eyes and dark spiky hair, bronzed skin and people who smile too much, laugh too easily. Dany’s serious, almost solemn a lot of the time unless he’s with Carlos or Nick when he suddenly turns into a total shithead joker, mostly in languages Alex can’t really speak well enough to understand what’s funny. He’s kind of intimidatingly intelligent - and he’s in F1, which feels like some kind of boundary-cross - Alex can’t go around snogging Toro Rosso drivers when he’s in GP3. 

“Well come on then, snog,” Mitch sounds even sulkier than earlier, which is something Alex’s drunken brain feels slightly satisfied about. But also he needs to kiss Daniil. Fuuuuck, he’s going to kiss Daniil. How is this happening? He barely even knows the guy. 

Dany smiles at him, looking more confident than Alex expects, grabs at the front of Alex’s shirt and presses their lips together, not entirely gently. 

There’s no tongue but firm pressure, Dany’s lips warm on his, his hand against Alex’s chest a steady tug towards him until Alex practically falls against his chest, hands moving roughly to Daniil’s waist. 

Dany is a much better kisser than he expected, using his hand in Alex's shirt to stabilise him, moving his other hand to run through his hair, then down his back, making him shiver slightly into the kiss and open his mouth. As soon as Daniil’s tongue touches his he's properly lost, making a quiet noise and scrabbling for more of a hold on the Russian, moving one hand up his thigh and the other to his chest, feeling how warm Dany is beneath him as he stumbles a bit on his knees.

Daniil makes a low, turned on sound and Alex almost falls on him, trying to get closer, when they’re interrupted by a blow from behind with a cushion - “Fucking hell, get a room you two.”

Nick looks kind of jealous, which Alex finds himself thinking is cute, pressed against Dany’s chest and with his hand playing with the hair at the base of Alex’s neck, holding him close. Alex feels oddly proud of himself, a confusing set of emotions washing over him in an odd swirl that he wouldn’t expect from a kiss - he’s kissed loads of people before. 

Not when he’s this drunk, of course. He hiccups again, hiding his face in Daniil’s shirt, flailing a little when he tries to get up and falling back into the other boy’s lap. Ugh, this is maybe not the most seductive he’s ever looked. Maybe ‘sloppy drunk and destabilised’ is what gets Dany off, though, cus he’s definitely got a hard on, poking Alex where he’s slumped against him. 

Dany watches him quietly for a minute, raises Alex’s hand to his mouth to kiss his knuckles as soon as the attention’s moved away from them, JEV and Dan loudly protesting the need to get off with each other in a way that says they’ll be banging in the hallway in under ten minutes. Alex is too dazed to really think straight about anything but it’s an odd gesture, almost too kind - he feels a bit overcome, hiding his face against Dany’s shirt again.

He wakes up four hours later with a disgusting mouth, banging headache and aggressive neck crick from where he’s curled over, drooling on Kvyat’s jeans as the other boy sleeps above him, one hand’s fingers threaded through Alex’s hair as though he’d fallen asleep stroking it. He really ought to pick himself off Ant’s lounge floor, work out how the fuck he’s going to get home and possibly indulge in a tactical vomit before he tries to get on public transport.

Instead he crawls up onto the settee next to Dany, cuddles into him and snores against his neck until Tom wakes them up swearing at the coffee machine. 

\-------

The second time, it’s a bit more deliberate. And no one passes out. They’d been hanging out at the factory - they talk to each other a lot more, now, which is kind of cool. Daniil’s away a lot more than he is but it’s kind of nice to know he’s around, at races and Alex finds himself kind of genuinely missing him when they’re in seriously different timezones.

It’s not like they’re dating - they’d cuddled a bit, hungover and sleepy, then never mentioned the whole incident again. For which Alex was profoundly grateful - also that no one seems to have any photographic evidence of him unconscious on last year’s GP3 winner because he can’t see that helping anything, ever. 

Daniil seems as attached to Carlos and Nick as ever, in whatever capacity they’re connected and Alex has Mitch - or well, his seething resentment of Richie, who has Mitch. Alex is kind of too busy to worry about the whole thing, given he has a championship to win. 

Dany understands the pressure - they all do but Alex is literally where he was a year ago, so it feels both safely non-competitive and also he kind of likes having a Formula 1 friend, even if Dany is the most junior driver on the grid. It makes it feel more achievable. 

So they’d ended up hanging out after Daniil had come in for some simulator work and Alex had kind of offered to make dinner because there are at least four things he’s confident enough cooking to not totally fuck up and this way he gets Dany away from Nick. And into his flat. Which he hadn’t entirely thought through and is making him panic a bit.

It’s just dinner! They’re friends, they kissed once, it doesn’t have to be weird! And he just wore his best shirt because he likes to be smart, not because he knows he looks good in it and had forgotten he might have to put an apron on or cover it in passata. 

Daniil is sitting on the counter-top, glass of wine in one hand and gesturing enthusiastically with the other, describing Dan and JEV’s latest antics and how he still can’t look Sebastian in the face and maybe never will, after falling over him in catering. Alex keeps having to remind himself to check on the cooking and not just stare at Daniil while the spaghetti overboils. 

“Anyway, so, I’m probably going to avoid team lunch for… ever. Maybe. Ugh.” Alex can’t help laughing fondly at Dany - he’s a Formula 1 driver, the youngest ever points-scorer and he’s panicking about having fallen over a bench. He puts a reassuring hand on Dany’s knee, strokes his leg whilst he’s turning the heat down.

Which is just as well because Dany tugs on his apron, pulls him closer and Alex finds himself with both hands on Daniil’s thighs, looking up at him again. Dany looks good for being at Toro Rosso - he’s much more tanned than a few months ago, hair bleached a bit blonder by the Italian sun and he looks grown up in a way Alex fears he doesn’t, despite being older.

He’s decided Daniil isn’t awkward - his English is a bit stumbling, sometimes but he’s much more resilient to teasing than Mitch or Tom - he’s just a quieter, more considered sort of person. Alex likes it, especially the way he gets chattier the more you know him, loses his inhibitions about the slight language barrier. 

Alex’s own inhibitions, which are mostly about the hot Formula 1 driver who’s running a hand up his chest currently, are harder to brush aside. In fact, the better he knows Dany the more he’s kind of horrified by remembering he tipsily snogged him, probably like a total idiot. 

Alex isn’t inexperienced but he’s a little intimidated. He knows Daniil has a bit of a lowkey reputation as a casanova, regularly managing to get off with everyone’s sisters and cousins and - although he’s kind of certain this can’t be true -  _ supposedly  _ Beitske’s mum. 

“Thanks for inviting me.” Dany looks really sincere and - shit, he probably  _ did  _ get off with somebody’s mum, he’s so fucking  _ nice  _ sometimes - Alex is a bit deer-in-headlights as Daniil brings his hand up to his jaw, shuffles forward slightly on the counter so he’s  _ almost  _ leaning on him and presses their lips together.

Dany tastes of the nicest Italian wine Alex could find in Milton Keynes Waitrose, toothpaste and coffee. Alex can’t remember if he brushed his teeth after he went shopping, is pretty sure he’s kind of garlic-y off tasting the sauce and is generally kind of horrified by himself but Dany just nuzzles him closer, until he can’t help whining, grabbing at him.

He pushes right up to the counter, lets their chests touch, feels Dany almost wrap his legs around Alex’s waist which -  _ fuck -  _ does so many things to him. He feels so weirdly flattered, so grown up, to have a fucking Formula 1 driver leaning over to kiss him from his kitchen counter, making a soft noise of appreciation when he licks into his mouth. 

Daniil is clinging to him, seductive and almost submissive, as much as he’s hooking Alex towards him with his legs, threading his fingers through Alex’s hair. It feels romantic, domestic, like something from a film or… a fucking coffee advert or something. 

This is the sort of thing adults do, no handsy fumbling on a sofa or something, frantic snogging against a tyre wall. Dany’s kissing him because he’s cooking them a romantic dinner and shit - the dinner.

Alex pulls back, deeply ruefully, can’t help kissing him again really briefly and gazing into Dany’s eyes for a second before he has to step back and stop the bolognese burning completely.  _ Shit,  _ Dany like, lives in Italy half the time why didn’t he just do steak? What an idiot. He knows he’s blushing and fuck, he really just wants to go back to kissing and maybe, like, get his hands in Daniil’s pants. 

“Will that keep? If we… did something else first?” Oh thank fuck, Alex could kiss him. Is going to. He’s never switched off the cooker faster, even including that time Pierre set fire to the tea towel. 

“Fuck yes.” Oh god, he doesn’t even sound like himself - he suddenly isn’t sure what he wants apart from  _ more,  _ turning back to face Dany as he shifts off the counter, standing close to Alex and pressing a kiss to his shoulder.

“Bed?” Alex feels the blush rise on him again, makes a whiny kind of noise of agreement as he’s fumbling his apron off and grabs Daniil’s hand to almost drag him out of the kitchen. He doesn’t care how eager he looks right now, Dany suggested it after all. 

Thankfully, he’d changed his bedsheets. You know, just in case Dany wanted to stay over and Alex was too much of a gentleman to let him sleep on the couch. Definitely not because he was desperately hoping they might end up rutting against each other in his sheets with Dany’s fingers tangled in his hair and had been wanking himself halfway blind over the idea just that morning. 

And now they’re in his bedroom and all he can think about is the fact he forgot to close his fucking sock drawer, which is surely the least erotic of all the clothing and also he isn’t quite sure what to do, sits down on the bed in a bit of a panic.

He’d half-forgotten he was still holding Dany’s hand, so now he’s standing over him looking kind of delighted, very slightly smug and Alex can’t help drawing him down, bringing Dany into his lap. He’s fucked guys before but in awkward, passing circumstances - one night stands and holiday romances. He’s never had a guy he  _ knows,  _ in his own bedroom. He’s trying to remember if he’s got any condoms that are likely to be in date.

Dany pushes him gently back onto the bed, kisses Alex’s neck, over his jaw, distracts him from freaking out with soft, affectionate presses of his lips and hot breath on Alex’s skin. It makes him shiver, squirm a little underneath Dany and he can feel him smile, against his cheek. 

“You drive me mad.” Dany presses up against him, deliberately letting Alex feel he’s hard and he can’t stop the slightly broken sounding moan he gasps out. It’s all too much suddenly, Alex not sure if he’s being seduced or pulling off some coup by getting Kvyat into his bed. He wriggles out from under Dany, rolls them both onto their sides, facing each other.

He wants to talk, because he’s confused and feeling like an idiot but also he can’t resist kissing Dany when he winds a leg between Alex’s. He wants to get them naked, desperate to touch Dany without the barrier of clothing, wanting them to rub up against each other skin-on-skin. 

Dany whines against his mouth, pulling them closer together again - he’s much more demanding than Alex expected, all his physical standoffishness seemingly gone as soon as it’s official they can touch each other. Although ‘official’ seems like too strong a word - Alex isn’t sure if this is just a release or something he can expect to happen regularly. 

They’ve got their hands in each other’s shirts, fumbling buttons open but it doesn’t feel frantic - feels like they can take their time, explore, tease each other. Alex nuzzles into Dany’s neck, kissing and licking - his skin is surprisingly soft, smells slightly of cocoa butter or something, musky and alluring. 

“Is this - I don’t know what this is.” Oh god now he’s ruined it with awkwardness. Dany looks at him seriously, for a second.

“It doesn’t have to be… what do you want?” Great, they’re both incoherent weirdos. Alex can feel his cheeks turning pink as about 50 unsuitable sentences run through his head. 

He settles on “To get naked with you. What do  _ you  _ want?”

Dany makes an almost growling noise, speaks slowly when he replies. “You to fuck me. Been thinking about it ever since the party.”

Alex feels something flutter in his chest - and his cock definitely jumps. Fuck, that’s hot. He didn’t know Dany would want it, doesn’t know what to say so just moves closer, letting Dany trail a hand down his side, push his shirt away so that his hand is on Alex’s waist, hipbone, fingers teasing the waistband of his boxers.

“Do you have stuff?” Alex nods, pretty sure there’s condoms and lube in his bedside drawer. This is the first time he’s had sex in this bed, he’s just realised - he moved a few months ago and he hasn’t had anyone over, broke up with his last girlfriend awhile ago. 

“You want to?” Daniil looks a little insecure, anxious - it’s just occurred to Alex that his incredible track record with seducing people’s sisters might not involve anything getting all the way to a bed, although he’s sure Dany’s had sex before. It’d be a great disguise for being gay, to be that good with women. 

Back to the task at hand - fuck yes, he wants to, “Yeah. Really yeah. God.”

It’s like it’s a trigger pulled, somehow - suddenly they  _ are  _ definitely urgent with each other, scrabbling to get undressed, get their hands everywhere, kissing fiercely. Alex wants to put his mouth all over Dany, is just sucking a bruise onto his collarbone when he gets flipped onto his back and straddled across his thighs. 

“You’re so hot.” Alex just stares up at Dany. He can’t really believe this is happening - it’s somehow more surreal than if it was like… Lewis Hamilton or someone, because that would just be weird and Alex would just be another fan but he’s gonna actually have sex with a Formula 1 driver who’s, like, someone he knows. He could have a Formula 1 boyfriend. Fuck.

And Dany thinks he’s hot. Which is just weird. Dany thinking about him at all is weird - Alex sort of assumes no one really thinks about him at all, a comfortable sort of anonymity. Presumably the other GP3 people do - hopefully in a slightly resentful, competitive way but he also slightly worries some of them think he’s old and weird. 

God, don’t think about them right now, Lynn; your potential Formula 1 boyfriend is probably about to touch your dick. Alex closes his eyes and whines as Dany bends forward to kiss his neck and pulls his boxers down and it’s exactly the right type of too much. 

He reaches for Dany’s hips, realises his hands are shaking slightly as he tries to seductively stroke them over Dany’s arse, reaches the waistband of his underwear and traces a finger underneath. Dany smiles at him, kisses him again and gets off Alex for a second to take his boxers off, letting Alex wriggle out of his. 

Alex feels breathless, staring up at Dany like - he suspects - an idiot and feeling kind of overwhelmed, watching Dany staring back. Hell yes, they’re naked. This is going to happen. 

With the sort of forwardness he didn’t think he was going to be capable of, he holds out a hand and drags Dany back on top of him, brings them together, their bodies pressed close, Dany’s thighs around his hips. Alex snakes a hand down between them, strokes both their cocks together and feels his own shudder echoed everywhere their skin is touching. 

Dany kisses him, almost reverently, as Alex moves his hand on their dicks and every bit of him feels sensitised. They’re not touching especially elegantly, the way Dany’s leaning over him meaning it’s a bit rougher, unbalanced - it feels raw and sexy and primal, nothing cautious going on and Alex moans when Dany tells him to hurry up and get in him.

Alex prefers being on top, usually - he doesn’t even especially like girls riding him, it never quite feels as good as being in control. But in this case, about to fuck a Formula 1 driver, fumbling through his bedside drawer desperately trying to grab the bottle of lube and a foil packet, he’s happy to let Dany be in charge.

When his fingers finally close around the cool plastic, he nearly lets out some thanks to a higher power. Dany pulls back from kissing him, looks at him with so much heat Alex nearly has to look away, trying to stop his hands shaking as he pumps the lube and Dany settles against him, almost curled up on his chest.

Dany makes a soft noise, face pressed against his neck, when Alex pushes a slick finger into him. Their cocks rub together, slick with bodyheat and pre-cum, every time Dany shifts and Alex finds himself whimpering, as he pushes a second finger into Dany and feels him clench as he grinds down. 

“Oh fuck,” Alex surprises himself by speaking, gets nothing but a slightly broken sound of agreement from Dany. The Russian grabs at the condom packet, fumbles it onto Alex’s dick without moving off him and he just about gets the wherewithal to withdraw his fingers before Dany’s kissing him and he’s sliding inside.

It’s fucking tight and they’re so close, bodies almost wrapped around each other. First-time sex with anyone is never as good as it gets but this is probably already at least top five for Alex, fuck. He’s so fucking into Dany pressed close against him, hands on his shoulders, riding him with his face tucked against Alex’s neck, sucking a lovebite.

Alex whines, thrusts up and clutches Dany to him, the other boy having turned pliant against him as they move. Alex is having weird half-thoughts about how fucking Dany is like fucking a model or a ballerina or something, like he doesn’t deserve this, it’s much too good for him and he can’t get over the fact it’s happening.

He’s just thinking he wants to make Dany come, find some way to thank him for fucking doing this with Alex when Kvyat stills, tenses and Alex feels wetness between their stomachs and  _ fuck  _ \- fuck, he can’t believe Dany enjoyed this that much, he’s gonna fucking come just at the thought, let alone the sensation overload.  _ Fuck. _

They stay together, clinging, while they’re panting. Dany seems a little… vulnerable, maybe, which is fine because Alex feels like he’s falling apart and isn’t even sure it’s a good way, some panic coming back. Fuck, if Dany just leaves this here he’s not going to cope very well with it - he’s way too emotional about it, wants something more. 

They slowly shift to cuddling and Alex tries not to look too desperate for reassurance that Dany likes him, doesn’t regret that. Spunk-damp and sweaty, Dany’s even hotter to him than usual and he feels pathetically inadequate, overwhelmed, not sure how to navigate any further down whatever this is. 

Dany snuggles up to him, under his arm, hugging him around the waist. Alex really wishes he could stop his fucking mouth opening because it feels really nice, reassuring but 

“Do you… kind of want to go out with each other then? Or something. Sorry.” Fuckssake what is  _ wrong  _ with him?

Dany just shifts closer, hooking a leg over Alex’s, “Yeah, alright.”

Alex tries really, really hard not to burst into tears of relief or something shit like that. Formula 1 boyfriend.

\-------

Daniil fucks him so, so tenderly, the first time. Alex really wanted sex, wanted to be close to him, to be inside each other but Dany’s got a flight out to the US for the race tomorrow. He’d looked so regretful, apologetic when he’d said they can’t just before he has to get in the car that Alex hadn’t been able to resist blurting out “well just fuck me, then” and now he’s on his side, Daniil spooning up to him and kissing his neck, trailing fingers down his waist. 

Alex has technically never been fucked before - Mitch had got his fingers in there while he was blowing him and it had felt amazing but he’s never had someone actually stick their dick in him. He’s pretty sure Dany knows, trusts him enough to be gentle. 

“Relax - it feels really good.” Alex mewls, hiding his face in the pillow and silently offering thanks to some kind of higher power that Dany can’t see him - he can feel his cheeks burning with how much he wants it. Dany’s fingers had felt so good, so  _ loving  _ and Alex is starting to get almost nervous about where this is going but also desperate to feel Daniil inside him, wrapped around him.

He feels weird and gentle and ...princess-y is not a word he’s ever associated with himself before but Dany’s arm around his waist is making him feel secure, safe enough to not bite his lip and stifle the cry when Dany pushes into him. It hurts, burns a little bit but in a way he knows he can handle. Dany’s panting against the back of his neck, mouth hot against Alex’s skin and for a second, he could just stay like this.

His body feels strained, the pressure inside him building as Daniil moves against him, buries himself deeper inside Alex. He’s clinging to the arm around his waist like an anchor, overwhelmed and feeling broken-apart, moving involuntarily, almost restlessly. Everything feels very slightly too much, trying to relax and trying to chase the bits of good sensations, work out what can feel good - he loves fucking people, tries to remember what they like, what Daniil likes when the situation’s reversed.

Finally Dany thrusts and there’s  _ something  _ really good, something else really weird, a lot of things in between and he makes a choked noise, clings to Dany’s arm. It feels too much but it’s great and he doesn’t want it to stop - the sensation somewhere between scratching an itch and pushing a bruise and Alex needs more, more, more. 

He’s babbling, whining, pushing back against Dany and he knows it can’t last, that he wouldn’t even want it to but he’s lost in the sensation, feeling like he’s being dragged down into something incredible, intensity and heat like molten rock between them. Dany murmurs something to him, clutches him tight suddenly and Alex had no idea it felt so good to feel someone lose it inside you, to drag them deep into you and he’s so fucked, so literally fucked.

Dany whines against the back of his neck, keens and shakes. It must have been awhile since he’d fucked someone, Alex thinks - maybe more turned on by the idea of letting Alex feel what he does than by fucking him but who knows - Dany’s more complex than he lets on sometimes, he could’ve been fantasising about it forever and just felt it had to be the other way to convince him into bed.

Alex whines himself, wriggling - Dany’s holding him too tight and every time he moves it makes the other boy shudder through another aftershock and Alex is so hard, so desperate to come before he loses all that sensation that had built up. He moves a hand down to wank himself off, come while Dany’s still in him - it’s immediately brushed away by Daniil’s and he can’t fucking help himself, leaning back and begging, filthy pleas falling from his mouth so fast he’d be shocking himself if he was capable of listening.

When he comes, it feels like he’s breaking apart, like the strain of the end of a tough race, like the spray of podium champagne, like he wants it to never stop, every bit of him lit up and working in perfect synchrony. It’s just as well Dany’s already holding him because in the moments after, he’s never felt so vulnerable, making soft noises with his eyes closed and enjoying being petted.

He’s glad when Dany pulls out - and also instantly misses it, weird sensations inside him doing nothing for the vulnerability. As soon as Dany wraps himself around him, though, he just feels sort of glowing and sated and unpleasantly sticky but happily warm. He cranes his neck round to kiss Dany, humming affectionately as he feels arms go around him, a leg wrap him close, Dany’s kisses soothing, calming, as loving as they’ve ever been.

He’s surprised it’s Dany that says it, nose deeply buried in the hair against the back of his neck. It had been on the edge of his thoughts for a long time, certainly the whole time Dany’s been holding him. Fuck, yes, he does love him - even if it’s stupid.

\-----

Alex stretches, languid, watching the play of the light between the slats of the blinds over his and Dany’s bodies. The other man is curled over his waist, resting his head on Alex’s hip - awake but far away, fiddling with the duvet between his fingers. 

They’re both in a morbid sort of mood, although not with each other. Alex is kind of shocked by how ill Daniil looks - tired and stressed, the sort of tightness he sees in his own face every time he thinks about the future. They’re kind of a mess. Even the thing between them feels less certain than ever, futures dangling like rip cords that will drag them apart.

It’s been an odd three years. Their hidden relationship has been one of the better bits, quiet time in hotel rooms and each other’s apartments spent indulging themselves but he thinks it might not be enough to survive the other things. They haven’t seen each other much, the last few months and really what do they even want with this, anyway? 

Dany kisses his hipbone and it’s a little regretful, almost like a goodbye. Alex shocks himself by bursting into tears, instantly rousing Dany to take him in his arms, let Alex make his chest wet with tears and snot. Ugh, he’s such an idiot - this has always been ridiculous, what’s he so fucking upset about?

They don’t break up. There probably wasn’t enough left of it to call it that. 

Alex misses fucking him in the shower, feels broken lying on his bed alone. He guiltily wanks over the memories, breaks his own heart over the way they’re fading. He doesn’t want anyone else, he has no idea what he wants at all.

It had always been too fast, too much, too strong. Typical, idiot drivers. He worries about Dany, wants to call him, hold him as the season carries on shredding him and Alex feels like he’s drowning without someone to share his own grief and stress and sadness with. 

Alex drinks himself into an uncharacteristic, painful stupor after that Sky interview. How does anything go this far wrong? While he’s throwing up the next day he sits on the bathroom floor, sobs himself into an ugly red mess and sends Dany a text, unanswered, that just says  _ I fucking miss you.  _

He licks his wounds for the rest of the season, cuddling the duvet and feeling like death as often as he spoons Pierre. He’s making appalling life choices, at the point where he really needs good ones. Fuck it all.

\----

Mitch is off with Sean again, which is… well, whatever. Mitch can do what he wants. Fucking at the Jaguar test had been a really big error. Alex is struggling, a lot and he’s scared and tired and doesn’t really want to party, despite the glass of white wine in his hand. 

He awkwardly one-hands his phone to do… anything other than just stand there feeling like a twat. Ugh, what a fucking season - what a fucking career, frankly. He’s so done with himself. And everyone else. 

“Hola,” someone bumps his shoulder and he’s a bit surprised to see Carlos, grunts a reply. But actually - he likes Carlos and he’s extremely willing to talk to literally anyone to distract him from his own head. 

“Hey, how are you?” Carlos looks… quite drunk, honestly. Which is sort of adorable. 

Carlos gives him a - slightly glassy - calculating look. “Am wondering if you’re seeing Mitch?”

Alex feels suddenly furious; for fuck’s sake, however much he does actually quite love Mitch, that little shit has some talent for getting him in every form of trouble. His reply is distinctly huffy “No. No I’m fucking not.”

“Good.” The Spaniard nods, like he’s reassuring himself. Oh god, is Carlos fucking Mitch again? Because that was a level of weird-cute Alex had found himself kind of unable to cope with. 

There’s a weird pause and Alex is halfway to asking him why the fuck he asked that when Carlos suddenly blurts out “Because Daniil misses you and I hate see you like this.”

He holds Alex’s gaze, serious and earnest and intense as always. Alex finds himself nodding, like he’s been given an instruction instead of kind of meddled at by his ex-boyfriend’s teammate. Christ, like he needed any more shit this evening. He feels numb and guilty and sad - which is pretty much how he feels all the time but he can keep a lid on it if he just gets stressed and angry about racing. 

“Go see him?” Alex nods again, doesn’t trust himself to speak. His mouth feels weird and he feels dreadful and awkward and weird - he knows perfectly well where Dany is, always does when he’s around a Grand Prix, the prickly hyper-awareness of someone you can’t be close to anymore. 

He moves, more to get away from Carlos than necessarily thinking he’ll go find Dany but then he can hardly feel any worse and it’d suck to leave it totally open, to not speak to each other at the end and as broken as he is, Alex knows he’s quite brave.

Even so, it makes his breath hitch, heart feel heavy. Dany looks better than earlier in the year - which is a kicker because Alex is pretty sure he looks ten times worse. He pushes past a couple of engineers, puts his hand out to touch Dany’s arm, get his attention but doesn’t quite manage it before the other man moves, backs into him and they’re suddenly very close and almost hugging. 

Dany looks up at him, laughing at something - and about as drunk as Carlos, which is extremely adorable and makes Alex’s heart ache. He’s clearly surprised to see Alex and it knocks his mirth off-kilter, although he doesn’t look disappointed.

Alex should move his arm. Aside from anything else, they’re in the middle of a room full of people. But this was always never supposed to happen. 

A firework, with almost cringe-inducingly good romantic timing, goes off and drags everyone’s attention to the skies, leaves them alone in their attentions to each other. He can feel that Dany isn’t breathing, wants to kiss him so badly he’s nearly shaking - christ, it’s been too long and too difficult. 

Alex blinks, determined not to well up and glances up at the sky - the huge mortars exploding red and green will more than hold everyone’s gaze. This is stupid; something being romantic doesn’t mean it’s going to work and that’s always been their problem but when he brushes their lips together for a half-second, he thinks it’s a damn fool notion to try and race your own heartbeat. 

  
  
  



End file.
